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Poster: cream-puff-war Date: Jul 4, 2008 8:09am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Magically delicious Weir doh! Freakies: part of complete freakout

What's with that Freakies cereal box premium whistle Bobby blows like mad when Truckin' starts?

London-ears were blown during Truckin' that night.
And there's the line about a sex change.
Then Bobby muffs some of the words. No big thing.

Play record one week and relearn lyrics, say 10 How's Ya Faddahs and 20 Hell Maybes.
Rainbow Theatre in London, 10-02-1981

Bobby originally wanted the Grateful Dead to be named... The Hobbits.

An older friend (Bill Jones) of mine went to lots of 1966 Avalon and Fillmore dance concerts, including some of the very 1st GD shows.

His favorite local band in those days was Quicksilver (pre-1st album).

Jones told me in detail about the time he watched Weir make a Peter Pan entrance on the dance floor.
Bobby, wearing pointy boots, a velvet cape and his hair down arrived prancing and dancing, merrily hippity hopping through the crowd like a leprechaun passing out pink hearts and 4-leafed clovers of marbit to the folks.

A frog prince, enchanted pooka in Wonderland, he was leaping and glomming onto the back shoulders of several surprised people, catapulting himself even higher!

"The pooka appears here and there, now and then, to this one and that one at his own caprice. A benign but mischievous creature."
-from HARVEY, starring Cecil Kellaway as the psychiatrist, Harvey the 6'3" rabbit Pooka as himself, and Jimmy Stewart as the friendly dipsomaniac who never misses a beat

(Jimmy's best role if you ask me, though not as complex as the man who learns what happens if he never existed)

The true summer of love happened throughout 1966 when all and sundry, musicians included could let their hair down without fear of freak-outs, especiaslly in the ballrooms.

By the summer of 1967 you couldn't trust everyone coming to the shows (a quote from Cyril Jordan, Flamin Groovies & Magic Christian lead guitar) the way you could in 1966.

Twas no longer safe to let any old weirdos lurching around the joint furtively jump you from behind.

Look, man - Blow a whistle or rattle your pooka beads before leaping.


Circa June '70 a joker in the Carousel crowd cracks Bobby up. Bob demands to know WHO that guy is that keeps requesting "Golden Road To Unlimited Devotion", which Bobby confesses the band doesn't know how to play anymore.

On another night in the '70 Fillmore West series I was right below Bobby where he was at center stage.

I was singing along to Truckin', which I'd memorised since playing American Beauty daily/nightly for a week, having bought the album 2 seconds after it was 1st released.
(Give or take a few minutes).

As Bobby was singing the "limping on keds, vitamin K and rogaine" lyrics (whatever!) so was I, and maybe I was the only kid there who had learned every word within Bobby's sight range.
He noticed my lips moving (he couldn't actually hear me, with the band playing?) in perfect synch with his, word for word, like a mirror image of a kind...

Bobby did this hilarious double-take, cross-eyed stare...
looking right into my eyeballs (which popped out of their sockets from embarrasment) -
I had to smile, and he smiled too as I recall.

Weir never acknowledged my presence again, then or since, even when we crossed paths.
But no matter, no big whoop.
That one moment was my timeless time to be with B.Weir

Well if only I could find that exact stanza or line on tape, and detect a trace of humor in his vocal - it would be a kick for me, however teensy weensy;
it was a freak-out that I shared in total synchronicity with Bob Weir.

Flash forward to 1982 or around that time when I was working at The Stone in SF as the chef's helper.
One night when Bobby's band long since finished playing, the club was all but empty, twixt the witching hour of 1:00 or 2:00 AM.
Broadway was still lit but practically deserted, and The Stone was at the far end of the strip a long 2 blocks from any business (mainly the stroke mag/liquor store) open all night.

Bobby walked right past me out the front door carrying his guitar, accompanied by one other musician friend or roadie, I think he was shorter than Bobby or slight framed, I don't recall who he was.

As Bobby turned right I presumed walking to his car in the parking lot, he wasn't crossing the street towards the lot, and I thought watching his back, oh so he's walking... lugging his ax down the Broadway strip - where's his ride?

Suddenly right behind him on that narrow sidewalk are about 10 tough-looking Asian teenagers not looking happy this long hair is blocking their way... with a guitar, an expensive looking case...
No one else is around, no cars, no cops, and these mooks (hey, it's not a racial slur, look it up!) are prowling the night with nothin' to do, looking hungry.

I was standing just outside the front door and this looked like a gang, so I moved quickly, darting back inside the Stone lobby before they could grab me or do anything, but it wasn't me they were tailgating...
it was Bobby and friend!

I guess he made it ok, since I didn't hear any screams, thuds or sirens for the next few minutes, and obviously Bobby is still here today with his guitar in hand, but it scared me at least, I wonder if he knew how close he came to being... you guessed it, JUMPED from behind!

This post was modified by cream-puff-war on 2008-07-04 03:12:29

This post was modified by cream-puff-war on 2008-07-04 09:07:23

This post was modified by cream-puff-war on 2008-07-04 13:42:54

(this is the fully corrected version)

This post was modified by cream-puff-war on 2008-07-04 15:09:49

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